


The Bite of the Dread Wolf

by FullMetalKittn



Series: Tiger Festival of Thedas [1]
Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Elven Glory, F/M, Fighting, For Great Justice!, Winner Gets the Girl, probably
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-25
Updated: 2015-02-08
Packaged: 2018-03-09 00:30:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,782
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3229424
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FullMetalKittn/pseuds/FullMetalKittn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Contains EndGame Spoilers, Pre-Trespasser. In this Story: Fade Fighting & Dashing Ancient Elves. Solas returns to Skyhold on the trail of an ancient who's slipped his primordial prison and hatched a plot to regain the admiration and influence he craves. Of course it involves Lavellan. The best evil plots always do.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This story briefly assumes a hypothetical endgame where Solas left the Inquisition to maintain the ancient prisons he created.

_"O Falon'Din_   
_Lethanavir - Friend to the Dead_   
_Guide my feet, calm my soul,_   
_Lead me to my rest."_

_-Dalish Prayer for the Departed_

 

Even before the doors were flung open to admit the myriad supplicants of the day, Enalen "Tiger Festival" Lavellan could feel it. Something that pulled at her beyond the line of nobility shuffling into the audience chamber. It was a familiar presence - one that awakened  an ache in her heart thought long ago buried in the sands of the Hissing Wastes.    
  
 _It can't be._

Standing at her side, her mysterious suitor tensed. Was it possible he felt it too? She spared him a glance.

As ever, Tiger Festival found her cheeks burning in that same irritating fashion they did whenever she beheld the man who had sauntered into her life so many months ago. Oh, she had put up more than a worthy fight and made an impressive stand against the entire idea of being wooed by some strange elf she had never met before. Yet, somehow an inarguable case had been made on his behalf by both her Ambassador and her Spymaster, and so she had reluctantly allowed this Elf his fancy.

And he _was_ fancy.

Tiger had never seen his like in all her life. He was absolutely beautiful. Loosely bound by several befeathered leather strips, his long black hair tumbled down his back with a few unruly strands set free to frame his pale, regal face and sharply pointed ears in handsome contrast. For an elf, he was ridiculously tall and well sculpted. The feather trimmed robes that draped his form in dusky shades of purple magnified every aspect of his magnificent frame and flowed like midnight around him when he moved.  Deeply set, his golden eyes peered out upon the world with an ageless wisdom that she had witnessed only once before.

_Solas..._

The name echoed through her mind as if it had been whispered into her ear. Her heart fluttered. Why?

She thought that she had at last let go that piece of her that still belonged to him. The oddly ancient looking Dalish promise ring around her finger - a gift from the suitor -  testified the fact that she was okay with moving on. But then, as if to challenge every conviction she had of finally letting him go,  there he was.

The crowd parted for him, but they didn't need to. Her eyes were on him the moment his bare soled feet crossed the threshold. His lupine gait was unmistakable and every silent step he took towards the dais echoed like the painful beat of a drum in her soul until he stood before her. Without a word, he leaned on the staff he carried with him - the very same one she had crafted for him forever ago - and raised his stormy lavender gaze to meet hers.

She was practically undone by his presence, but there was no way in hell she'd let him see it. Not now. Not again. Not in front of so many eyes. Her brow furrowed, and with great determination, she took a breath to greet him as she might any other unannounced petitioner.

"It seems the wolf has returned to harrass the livestock." Demurred the man at her side, before she could utter a single word. "Pray, let me attend him."

Caught off guard, but curious, Tiger Festival nodded her permission, and set her gaze back upon Solas. He had changed not at all in his absence. Even the snowy white mage robe she had tailored for him in the Dalish style still framed his tall, pale body. Luckily, it did look as though he had kept it clean and in good repair.

Infused Vyrantium Samite was hard to come by, after all.

"Fen'harel," her suitor began as he took a few steps in front of Tiger Festival's seat. When the name wasn't followed by a typical Dalish curse or blessing, as was the usual custom when invoking it, it became apparent that he was greeting the clean shaven elf with it instead. Her bewilderment grew tenfold when Solas's expression all but confirmed such.

"Oh! That's right. _She_ doesn't know. _You_ never told her," Tall, dark and handsome continued, with contempt dripping off of every countertenor word, "I wonder if there is aught else you've failed to tell her, Dread Wolf." 

Solas darted a lingering glance at Tiger, but if he was moved at all by the unspoken question displayed on her impish face, he made no sign. Instead, he turned that glorious purple-grey gaze back to the one challenging him. "And what of you, Falon'Din? How much of your plan have you revealed? Does she even yet know what part she is to play in it."

 _Falon'Din._ He had introduced himself as such to her. She had thought it an atypical method of showing that elven god honor, or a favored pseudonym, perhaps, like her own childhood nickname. To even consider that she sat in the presence of the actual Falon'Din was a revelation her mind couldn't possibly grasp. Nevermind that Solas, the man she had fallen so hard for a year ago could truly be Fen'Harel. Tiger Festival's thoughts muddled. Nothing made sense. She listened in wide-eyed wonder as the two elves exchanged heated words that were ancient beyond her ken.  Whispers from the Well of Sorrows swirled, offering broken translations, but that only frustrated her more.

"Just what in the hell is going on here?" She demanded at last, rising to her feet. "Fen'Harel? Falon'Din? Do you even know how crazy this sounds?!"

Her outburst sent several of the Orlesian courtiers scattering for cover. Silence fell briefly over the chamber. Then,

"Vhenan."

And just like that, Tiger Festival's resolve began to crumble. How many times had she sat in that damned rotunda of his, hoping some small echo of that word remained depicted in the paint and plaster he had left behind? It was all she could do not to run to his embrace as he directed his sorrow-filled eyes at her. "I meant to spare you this burden. Once, I thought I could forget the past, and stay with you. I thought my mistakes could remain among the forgotten relics of our culture that your people forever struggle to reclaim. When I realized that could never be..."

"You left her like the traitorous coward you are?" Falon'Din offered, unsympathetic.

To this, Solas breathed a sigh and looked away. "Yes."

Another silence followed as Falon'din gracefully folded his arms and leveled a withering amber stare at Fen'Harel. Whispers from the few courtiers brave enough to linger in the room bounced off the walls as they observed the whole exchange in indignant awe. During his time at Skyhold, the dark-haired elf had won the admiration of many a noble. Perhaps they sensed in him a kindred spirit, despite the point of his ears. It was one of the reasons that the Ambassador continued to favor the match.

Thankfully, Josephine was not present to stand witness as Tiger struggled with the painful affection that she and Leliana both had hoped to purge out of kindness, "Solas..."

"My name is Fen'Harel, Vhenan," corrected Solas softly, as he momentarily met her gaze again. Then, with the next breath, his expression twisted into a feral snarl, and he looked to Falon'Din, "And I will not allow you to use her to regain your influence in this land. If I have learned nothing else, it is that Our Kind have a place here no longer!"

Conflict was imminent. Even the most dense courtier present could feel it, and so they all systematically fled the scene in a din of rustling petticoats and jaunty hats until only the three elves remained in the audience hall. The tension in the air was palpable, and matched only by the uneasiness in Tiger Festival's gut. Two impossibly real demi-gods, standing at odds less than a stone's throw away from her?

This would not end well.

"So the Dread Wolf challenges me?" Falon'Din's handsome face betrayed him as a dangerous smile played about his lips. Stepping back to her side, his long fingers curled around Tiger Festival's left wrist. Curious to a fault, and more than a little excited to see what would happen next, she allowed him this contact, thinking it bait for a reaction from Solas. 

And Solas did not disappoint. Like lightning in an overcast sky, his eyes flashed with power. He brought his staff to bear. Amplified lyrium flowed through dragonbone, tracing the words _Na'Vhenan Enansal_ in swirling blue light on the shaft. Seeing them glow in his hands, Tiger's heart swelled.

"For over two thousand years I have pined for the chance to put you down myself, Dog." Falon'Din spat as he tightened his grip on the Inquisitor's wrist, and, despite her very loud objection, pointed her marked palm at Solas. "You think yourself a master of the Fade, Dreamer? Perhaps you've forgotten whose domain it _really_ is."

A stinging, pulsing sensation, as if the blood were being being pulled from the veins in her arm was the only warning that Tiger had to act on, but it was enough. With a grunt of effort, she managed to fight Falon'Din's ironclad grip just enough to cast his aim wide as he channeled immense power through the mark, and the rift that might have torn Solas apart opened inches away from him instead.

"That shouldn't be here!" Declared the Dread Wolf with a look of dismay, followed by a breathless, "No!" As his rival leapt through the Fade portal with a writhing Tiger in tow.

The last thing she saw as the world turned upside down and inside out was Solas diving in after her.


	2. Chapter 2

_"To know the Fade, one cannot seek to master it._

_The Fade is the master, the teacher. We are merely apprentices._ "

_-Magister Callistus of Taraevyn_

 

Although she was prepared for the ground to be flipped above her, Tiger Festival still managed to land in an ungraceful heap on the ooze covered Fade earth. Her left arm flared with pain as she braced her weight against her palms and sat upright. It felt as if someone had attempted to twist the very muscle off the bone, turning the limb into a hot and angry bundle of nerves from the elbow to the wrist. Nearby, Solas - no, Fen'Harel stood with his back to her and his attention heavenward.

"You must get that rift open, _Vhenan._ It is the only way back to Skyhold," he said as he aimed his staff at the murky sky. There, not far away, Falon'Din hovered aloft. Apparently, the laws of physics did not apply to him in this place. "Quickly!" The Dread Wolf warned her, letting fly two palm-sized comets that snaked a path through the haze towards Falon'Din. When they were easily dodged, he loped away to close the distance with his rival. That left Tiger Festival alone to observe the sealed rift overhead.

She directed her palm at the glassy aura, willed the mark to open it, and was rewarded for the effort by a searing pain that sent pins and needles straight down her spine. Doubling over, she cradled her arm. Her entire hand had gone numb.

_Useless._

Through narrowed eyes, she stared after Solas as he met Falon'Din in magical combat. Thunder rumbled, and the ground shook as they exchanged spells that illuminated their surroundings in a spectacular display of light and color.

 _What do I do now?_   She frowned at her palm. She had no weapon with her. And even if she had the power to call one out of thin air, who was her ally here?

And who was her enemy?

With that troubling thought came a tingle in Tiger's palm - a faint promise that power was returning to the mark, although very slowly. Still favoring her arm, she sat back on her heels and blew out a frustrated sigh as she turned her eyes on the two ancient elves once more. With any luck, she'd be able to get the portal open before they killed each other.

Though if she managed that, it would not be for their lack of trying. After fending off Falon'Din's initial retaliation, Fen'Harel had caught a blast of inky black fade-stuff right in the gut that sent him reeling. It crawled like ice over his body and seeped into his pores where the cloth was thin, chilling him to the bone.

"Why do you remain grounded when you could fly, Fen'Harel?" Demanded his adversary from on high as Solas regained his footing and shuddered. He seemed genuinely perplexed. "You disappoint me, Dread Wolf. We are gods in the limitless Beyond! Where is your imagination?"

"I see you still talk too much," remarked Solas as his nose wrinkled with irritation. He stretched a hand towards his opponent. His long fingers curled into a fist, grasping the air as magic shimmered around him and Falon'Din's face could barely register his surprise before he found himself flung to the ground with enough force to crack the earth around him. When the fade dust had settled, the Dread Wolf sauntered over to the shallow crater. There, he casually leaned on his staff to address the elf-shaped pile of dusky robes and black hair within. "So what have you to say now?"

The curse that was muttered as Falon'Din partially picked himself up was so unbecoming an answer that Solas actually chuckled.

Then, as if to aid in recovering his balance, the dark haired elf willed a curved, obsidian-colored staff out of the aether with a flick of his wrist, and took hold of it. Except for the jagged silverite blade at the bottom, it looked for all the world like a mundane shepherd's crook. This Falon'din momentarily braced his disheveled form against as he met Fen'Harel's amused gaze and smiled.

It was not a friendly gesture from the Friend of the Dead, but Solas caught the warning far too late. With the speed and temerity of an owl descending upon an unsuspecting field mouse, Falon'Din leapt at him. He shoved the butt of the staff into Fen'harel's fade-burnt ribcage. The wicked blade attached to it bit deep into the bald elf's flesh and tore a painful cry from his throat.

"Solas!" Tiger Festival shouted in despair. Green tendrils of magic flickered about her palm and she desperately pointed it at the rift, but the power to open it yet eluded her.

"Yes. That's right. Howl, Dog, and let her mark it well." Falon'Din purred as he pressed forward, bearing down on the weapon until Fen'Harel was on his back. Bright crimson blossomed on snowy white samite. Solas grimaced in agony as his assailant loomed over him,  "Soon your voice will be little more than a memory to her. I will make her mine, and through her..."

 "I can hear you, you know! I'm sitting right here!" Tiger called out, frustrated at her helplessness as she watched Solas suffer.

Falon'Din smirked and tilted forward, cruelly pushing the staff blade deeper in an effort to correct his apparent error in judgment. "Such a willful spirit your beloved has, Fen'Harel. It is a pity she will have to be relieved of that to be of any use to me."

To one who valued free will and spirit above all else, it was the wrong thing to say.

Stormy eyes flashed with anger. Sucking in his breath, Fen'Harel gripped the other elf's staff with one hand to keep it from tearing through him as he leaned up and flipped his own weighty weapon end over end with the other. Then, seizing it out of the air by the very bottom of its shaft, he brought the thing up and around as hard as he could. There was a sickening -CRACK- as the dragonbone-encased lyrium focus connected with the side of Falon'Din's skull. The demi-god staggered backwards, holding his head in pain, and dropped to his knees.

Surprisingly, Tiger Festival found herself equally upset at seeing Falon'Din struck down as she had been by Solas's impalement. In spite of what had been said, she felt like weeping at the sight of him, and couldn't figure out why. 

Ignorant of the inquisitor's distress, Solas pulled the bladed staff from his midsection with a pained gasp and cast it aside. It clattered noisily to the ground as he pressed a spell against his wound to stem the bleeding and stood. He frowned at Falon'Din. "Has the millenia in captivity taught you nothing? You would return to the world after all this time, only to make the same mistake again?"

"You mock me with those words, hypocrite." Falon'Din darkly replied. A rivlet of blood snaked down the side of his face from his temple and dripped off his chin as he raised his golden gaze to Fen'Harel. "Pray, tell me. What will you do, now that you think you have won? Am I destined for the mirrored cage again or do you mean to end me here?"

The question gave Solas pause, yet something else caught his attention before he could reply and his eyes narrowed. "It seems our conflict has brought us company."

"Demons!" Tiger could feel it too. There began a palpable, irrational feeling of rage that gnawed just at the edge of her senses. That she could detect it approaching while it was yet unseen meant it was probably a very big one. Or several very big ones.

"You must get that rift open now, _Vhenan!_ "  Solas called to her as Falon'Din slowly rose to his feet.

Left palm aimed at the sealed portal, Tiger's desperation was evident. "I'm trying!!" She shouted, straining. Flickers of green lightning enveloped her hand and danced around her wrist, and for moment it seemed as if the rift were bending to open, but it wasn't enough. The mark spat sparks and fizzled. "Damn it! It needs more power!"

"Cease your panic, _da'len_." Falon'Din's voice was as smooth and calm as ever. He stepped past Solas, collected his bladed black crook from the ground and tossed it over to Tiger. "Use this."

To her credit, Tiger still had the grace to catch the thing without fumbling it, though her face betrayed her confusion. "But, I'm not a mage!"

Both of the ancients were amused by this, and the chuckles they breathed at her expense were eerily similar. Vexed by this, it took all of Tiger's willpower not to demand an explanation for their bullshit right away.  Now was not the time.

"Pretend that you are." Solas bade her gently as he approached her side and took her by the wrist. He wrapped her small fingers around the murky black shaft and together, they pointed the weapon towards the rift.

Like a cloudy night sky, the surface of the staff began to churn and the mark on her hand reacted, offering up tendrils of green light that flared brighter as the blackness started to leak away from the crook. It pooled in her palm and trickled through her fingers. Icy daggers stabbed at her arm, invisible. The darkness was seeping into her flesh. Tiger screamed in terror at the pain and the horrifying image of the fade stuff eating away at her limb. It was only because Solas was there, holding her steady, that she managed to maintain her grip on the frightful thing.

And then, with one excruciating tug, the staff reclaimed it all, channeling every last bit of magic out of the mark, up the shaft and into the rift. It burst open in a dazzling display, revealing a warped-glass vision of Skyhold's audience hall.  

"Yes!" Tiger Festival pumped her unmarked fist in the air, but her elation was short lived as the literal gravity of the situation sank in. The portal back home was at least two Tiger's above her head.

The rift was too damn high.

Falon'Din, having already demonstrated that he was not one to be held back by simple matters of physics - or a massive head wound - in this realm, presented the other two elves a cunning smile as he willed himself into the air. "I hope that you find your imagination soon. It would be tragic if the demons found you first," he told them, sounding oddly sincere as he flew gracefully through the rift.

To the Inquisitor's dismay,  the portal started to shrink with Falon'Din's departure. The temperature was beginning to rise. Inhuman sounds heralded the arrival of a ridiculously large rage demon in the distance and it was advancing fast. Powerless and unarmed, Tiger's pulse began to race. She cast about in a panic, scanning the surroundings. Though she still held Falon'Din's staff, she was ill equipped to use it, and no other options presented themselves on the hazy, barren landscape. Who would leave a perfectly good bow just laying around in the Fade, after all?

Out of ideas, her eyes met Fen'Harel's. The quiet amusement she found there made her blush, mortified. It was as if he had been watching her little breakdown, waiting for her to look at him the entire time.  "What are we going to do, Solas?" She asked him at last.

In reply, he wrapped his free arm around her waist and pulled her in close and tight. "Clearly, we must fly, _Vhenan._ "

Solas tapped the butt of his staff on the ground and the air around him shimmered. Tiger could feel the magic rushing under their feet as fade dust eddied around their ankles until they were literally standing on air, rising swiftly towards the hole in the sky.

With their bodies pressed together and Fen'Harel's eyes on her, thoughts of the time they had spent together came crashing back into Tiger's mind. She remembered his teasing touch, his overwhelming embrace, and the way his kiss always took her breath away. Each memory was as fresh as if it had been made yesterday. There was nothing about him that she did not miss, and now, if only for a moment, he was that close again.

Leaning into him, she shut her eyes and reveled in his presence as they passed through the rift and the world changed around them.


	3. Chapter 3

_" ...those elves who travel the Beyond claim that Fen'Harel still roams the world of dreams,_

_keeping watch over the gods lest they escape from their prisons._ "

                                                                  — _The Fall of Arlathan_ , _as told by Keeper Gisharel of the Ralaferin clan_

 

 

Falon'Din was waiting for them in the audience hall, regally reclining against one of the large Ferelden hound statues that decorated corners of the chamber. Despite his casual stance, he wasted no time in making known his opinion on the current state of the conflict as the other two elves emerged from the swiftly closing rift.  Tiger Festival barely had time enough to note the dark-haired elf's location when he directed a fat beam of ice-cold darkness at them.

With an alarmed cry, Tiger tried to shove Solas out of harm's way, only to find herself tossed off balance when he had the same idea and proved the stronger. She fell backwards onto her rear as the stream of fade-stuff frosted her outstretched fingertips and launched the Dread Wolf into one of the food laden long tables. Petit fours and despair-glazed ham sailed through the air.

"Have you not had enough?" Demanded Fen'Harel as he extracted himself from the remains of the table and dodged a second attack that reduced a pair of chairs  to fade-singed splinters. Reopened, his stab wound began to leak fresh red onto his stained robe. If it pained him, however, it did not show on his angular face.

Falon'Din narrowed his glorious golden gaze at his opponent - a feat that took only half the usual effort as his left eye was beginning to swell shut - and blew out his breath in a cocky sounding "Hmph." He brought both of his hands together before him. A shiny black ball of nothingness began to grow in the space between them. "You would have me surrender, Dread Wolf? I'll not accept the cage blindly as I did before. If you would snare me again, I will see you bleed for it."

And with that, he sent the mabari-sized Fade bullet speeding towards Fen'Harel's head.

Solas was well prepared this time. Channeling a bit of energy through his staff, he brandished the weapon in front of him and deflected the attack with a single magic-enhanced  swing. Knocked off course, the fade ball crashed through the beautiful stained glass window behind the Inquisitor's throne and detonated as if it were laced with Qunari _gaatlok_ on impact. Furniture and frilly cakes were sent airborne by the blast and, like pieces of a broken prism, shards of pale blue and yellow glittered in the sunlight as they rent the air in a shower of sparkling color.

"You're putting holes in my throne room!" Tiger Festival, master of the obvious, announced as she scrambled to her feet in a panic. Daylight streamed through the shattered remains of the window, illuminating the debris-strewn floor for all to see.

Josephine was going to have a fit.

Frustrated and afraid, Tiger felt her cheeks flush as she beheld the two ancient elves with wary regard. It took every scrap of courage and determination she had to address them like equals, let alone like the brawling children their destructive behavior portrayed. "ENOUGH!" She declared, stomping a foot as she indicated the open doors at the end of the hall. "If you're going to kill each other, do it outside!"

As an after thought she looked at Falon'Din and Fen'Harel in turn and added a fretful, "Please?"

Solas seemed remarkably charmed by this. _"Ma nu'venin, Vhenan,"_ said he, inclining his hairless head. He turned towards his rival, only to find Falon'Din seething silently with no indication of any desire to relocate. Thus, the Dread Wolf obliged his beloved as he took the other demi-god by the collar of his feathered robe with a powerful magical gesture and hurled him face-first through the doorway.

Both horribly curious and weirdly, terribly concerned for Falon'Din's welfare, Tiger Festival gave chase as Solas sprinted outside. To her immense relief - and the audible shock of the other courtyard inhabitants - the dark haired elf had managed to rebound off the battlement wall in an impressive display of grace and agility. Dusky robes billowed about him as he harmlessly found solid purchase on the muddy ground, and by the time his opponent had finished descending the stairs, he had already positioned himself for another round of magical exchange.

Ferelden mercenaries, Free Marchers and Grey Wardens made up the bulk of the front courtyard's loiterers. Unlike the oft scatter-brained lesser nobility that frequented the throne room, these men and women knew better than to stand betwixt two ancient rivals wielding unknown powers. Instead, they quickly cleared the area, but lingered nearby to watch as ice, fire, and darkness tore at earth and elf alike.

As it was bound to, the commotion eventually caught the attention of Commander Cullen. Out of the corner of her eye, Tiger marked the man as he raced down from his tower three steps at a time and dashed across the training yard to approach her on the main stairway.  The look on her face must have been telling. With deep concern in his voice, the first thing he asked was, "Lady Lavellan, Are you alright?"

 _No. Make them stop._ _Please, make them stop hurting each other,_ She wanted to say, but what could even he do? Short of ordering their men to take one of the demi-gods out entirely, he was as powerless to end the conflict as she was.

Nevertheless, he intended to try. "I can have the soldiers subdue them, Inquisitor. Our archers are training their bows on them as we speak."

Tiger lifted her gaze from the men in the courtyard to verify the Commander's statement. Inquisition snipers had indeed appeared atop the ramparts with their arrows in hand. They systematically drew their bowstrings, sights centered at one demi-god or the other. Cullen was nothing if not efficient.

"At your word, My Lady." He prompted, "One of them will fall and this madness will end."

Below, a pained cry from Falon'Din brought the Inquisitor's attention back upon the immortal combatants. Daggers of ice shattered on the wall behind the black haired elf as a fresh laceration opened just under his right eye and wept blood down his cheek. In retaliation he pointed a slender finger at Solas. Out of nothing, a razor sharp ribbon of darkness appeared. It wrapped itself around the Dread Wolf's ankles, sinking into his flesh and bringing him to his knees before fading away.

It was too much to watch. Tears stung Tiger's eyes as she observed them. Could mundane arrows even really stop this? And if they could, who should take the fall? Who should feel the pain of a hundred metal-tipped missiles at her command?  Her eyes darted from one bruised and bleeding demi-god to the other.

The urgency in Cullen's voice was infectious, "Inquisitor! Give us a target!"

"I can't!" Tiger lamented loudly, utterly torn.

Her distress caught the attention of the Ancients below. In an instant, Falon'Din abandoned his next attack and simply appeared behind her - much in the unsettling way Cole would on occasion.  He silenced Cullen's protest with a glance as he gently took Tiger's hands in his.

Meeting his gaze at that moment was like staring into an endless sea of amber. Her heart rabbited around in her chest and she felt likely to drown.  "The Dread Wolf is as much here for you as he is for me, _da'len_. Simply love me. Adore me. Make known your devotion to me, and he will have to depart, defeated."

Of course, the rest of what that statement implied went unspoken. While it was unclear to her which of them was the more powerful, the threat that one of them would not survive the encounter increased the longer it went on. On top of that, it was painfully obvious that this contest endangered more than just its elven participants. To be able to end it now under those terms and with no further bloodshed should have been an easy decision. After all, up until the moment Solas had walked into the throne room, the things that Falon'Din asked of her had very nearly been his already.

Tiger Festival dared to give Fen'Harel a fleeting glance. His lupine face barely hid the grim acceptance he must have felt looking up at his rival and his beloved hand in hand. But, what he couldn't see was the how the very thought of hurting him in any way wounded her immeasurably. For all his comely charm, Falon'Din could not erase the memory of dreams shared while sleeping in Solas's arms. He knew nothing of the fascinating fade stories told by campfire, and it wasn't the Friend of the Dead who taught her to slow dance in a candlelit rotunda as the lyrics of an ancient elven song fell softly from his lips.

In the end, the heart wants what it wants, and hers wanted Solas back.

 _"Ir'abelas, Lethanavir,"_ she said at last. Her eyes watered as she challenged that beautiful golden stare. Words had never been so painful to say. They felt selfish and foolhardy, but they were nevertheless true as she told Falon'Din, "But I will never love anyone like I love him."

The confession wrought a change in Falon'Din's countenance that wasn't unexpected. Momentarily stunned, his eyes quickly narrowed and his mouth formed a thin line of displeasure on his handsome face. "Then it appears I have no choice," he said and stepped away.  With fingers splayed, he held his arm out towards the open doors of the main keep. It seemed a meaningless gesture until his black staff flew from within and settled itself firmly in his grasp. Familiar green lightning crackled around the weapon as he tightened his grip. "I must remove this vice on your heart."

If she had taken just a moment to think it through, Tiger might have hesitated or reconsidered. Instead, as Falon'Din brought his weapon to bear and unleashed a magnified attack of tremendous power against Solas in the courtyard below, she instinctively dove off the stairs in a desperate attempt to knock him out of its path.

_Too slow._

_"Vhenan!"_ The look of horror on Fen'Harel's face heralded her doom as he reached out to catch her. Everything seemed to be happening in slow motion. The blast of fade magic hit her square in the back, driving her into Solas's arms as ribs cracked and the air was knocked out of her lungs. If not for the last minute barrier thrown around them as the Dread Wolf held her tight, the impact would have surely shattered her spine.

When it was over, she found herself unable to stand on her own. A knot of icy pain had taken reisdence in her belly, killing all sensation below, and every breath stabbed in her chest like a hundred shards of broken glass. The sorrowful way that Solas regarded her spoke volumes without a word.

 _Am I gonna die?_ She wanted to ask him, but the effort to speak triggered a stuffy tickle in her throat that resulted in a painful cough. The hand she raised to cover her mouth came back covered in blood. At the sight of it, her eyes widened and Solas's narrowed dangerously in contrast. He directed a glare at Falon'Din that could have broken a mundane man with its intensity alone.

For his part, the other elf seemed acceptably dismayed by fate of the unintended target of his spell. This gave Fen'Harel an advantage that he wasted no time in taking. With a magic imbued gesture, he sent his rival sailing off the stairway, across the training yard and straight through the armory wall like an elven canonball. Then, handing Tiger over to the stunned, but concerned Commander as he passed him by, the Dread Wolf marched after his foe with single-minded determination.

The armory workers dropped what they were doing and fled through the various exits - old and new- as Falon'Din crawled out of the pile of broken masonwork, busted furniture and unfinished weaponry.

He would not be afforded the chance to recover this time.

Falon'Din had barely freed himself from the rubble and was slowly finding his footing when he paused to regard Fen'Harel standing still in the training yard. A fleeting moment of eerie silence seized the entire keep as ancient elf looked upon ancient elf in profound contempt. Only the wind dared move.

And then Solas calmly declared, "This ends now."

He planted his staff upright in the ground before him and thrust his arms out wide. Normally invisible, the fade-enhanced force magic he had mastered swirled around him. It traced faint lines in the air and tossed the hem of his stained robe about in a frenzied dance as it gathered around staff and elf. Solas shut his eyes tight. Teeth clenched, he began to bring his hands together with seemingly great effort. It was an almost comical sight - like a mime caught in a personal wind storm trying to crush a large, stubborn box - until the sound of shifting stone rumbled throughout the yard.

The whole armory building began to tremble. Trapped at its heart with seemingly no energy left to magic his way out, Falon'Din must have known it was over. Noble even in defeat, he stood tall with his crook in hand as massive clumps of stonework began to rain down around him, coating his beautiful black hair with masonry dust.

Leaning heavily on Cullen, Tiger Festival could only watch in mournful horror. How could this really be happening? How could it really end like this? She wanted to beg Solas to stop, to let Falon'Din live, but she had no voice with which to plead. A thousand panicked thoughts filled her brain in the seconds it took for Solas's hands to meet and then the deafening sound and the terrible sight of the armory collasping in on itself drowned out everything.

_It's my fault. It's all..._

A tower-high plume of dust climbed into the air above the pile of stone and metal. She felt dizzy looking at it.  If only she hadn't jumped. If only she'd told him yes.  Razor sharp regret pierced her heart. That sting was the last thing she knew as the darkness that had been eating away at the edge of her vision claimed her at last and she fell.

*  *  *

The gentle press of familiar hands on her spine brought Tiger Festival back to reality sometime later. Candle light stung her eyes and she winced as she pried them open to get her bearings. Reclining on her stomach, she knew the ridiculously embroidered Orlesian silk sheets and fluffy down pillows that lay around her. This was her own bed, which meant she was somehow in her sleeping chamber high above the main keep.

"Easy, My Heart." Solas's soft voice was a balm to her ears.  Magic tingled through her veins, knitting torn muscle and bruised bone with its pleasant, pulsing warmth. If she were a cat, she might have purred.

Instead she murmured dumbly, "Solas. Are you healing me?"

"Yes, _Vhenan._ "  His fingers brushed the back of her neck as he traced arcane patterns on her skin. Soothing heat followed, erasing every ache in its path. While his apparent god-like talent had gone  entirely unmeasured during their time together, and his ability to shield and restore on the battlefield had never been in question, this was the first time she had ever experienced Solas's healing magic like this. 

She blushed as goosebumps teased the tiny hairs on her arms. "So then, I'm going to be okay."

His breathy, charming chuckle was her reply. "Yes, _Vhenan_."

A quiet breeze indicated open windows and the dim lighting betrayed darkened skies beyond them. It must have been hours since the calamity in the courtyard had come to a close. The barb of remorse pinched her heart again. "Falon'Din, is he...?" The thought was too painful to voice. She reconsidered, "Did he survive?"

The question gave her healer pause. Unable to see his face, she could only guess at what he was thinking as his hands resumed their work. At length, he replied, "Yes, _Vhenan_."

It was such an unexpected response that she shifted her body enough to cast a curious glance his way. Seated on the bed at her left side with his legs folded beneath him, Solas tilted his head with a  thoughtful frown as he met her questioning gaze. He explained, "When I restored the armory, his body wasn't there. Given his particular talent, it's possible he escaped into the Fade. I do not think he will return."

Knowing that Falon'Din probably wasn't dead planted an all new assortment of troublesome thoughts in her mind, but she pushed them aside. They could be dwelt upon later. For now, her heart could at least rest easy that her actions hadn't issued the demise of a legendary Elven god. Which only left the matter of the one who shared her bed at the moment.

"You restored the _entire_ armory?" She asked as she sat upright to face him.

With his healing interrupted, Solas looked down and picked distractedly at his fingernails. Like the repeated message on a recording crystal he replied simply, "Yes, _Vhenan_." 

It shouldn't have been surprising. His magic had rebuilt broken bridges and sealed breached caverns before. And besides, what couldn't he do? What wasn't possible for him? He was Fen'Harel, the Dread Wolf, straight out of Dalish fairy tales, after all. Questions innumerable begged to be asked as Tiger stared at him for a moment in wide-eyed, silent wonder.

Chief among them was the one whose answer she feared the most. She took a breath and hesitated. Then, with words as slow and quiet as if they meant to escape without her notice, she managed to ask at last, "Fen'Harel, are you going to leave me?"

Solas lifted his purple-gray gaze again. Tiger Festival felt light headed as their eyes met. _I shouldn't have asked,_ she thought in dismay as her heart thundered in her ears. It would be better not to know. Better, she decided, to simply enjoy his presence while it lasted. But now, the question lingered in the air between them like an out-of-place spirit.

And then, in the most frustrating, unfathomable way possible, Fen'Harel simply smiled.


End file.
